


Things Owed - Enigma

by Akamaimom



Series: Things Owed [5]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akamaimom/pseuds/Akamaimom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the "Things Owed" series. A group of one-shot episode tags. Jack and Sam have sacrificed a lot for each other over the years. Neither of them like the idea of being in debt to the other. Sam/Jack Ship.</p><p>I'm regrouping these into a series rather than a story with chapters, since they each read as "complete" even though they are inter-related stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Owed - Enigma

**Things Owed**

**Enigma**

 

 

 

"The guy was a dick."

 

"Which one?  The leader or the dude who had the hots for Sam?"

 

O'Neill blew into his coffee cup, glaring into the dark liquid within.  The answer he wanted to give was an answer that would have revealed more than he wanted. So, like a coward, he took the easy way out, instead. "Both."

 

Daniel nicked the top of his banana with his thumbnail and then pulled back the peel.  "They were certainly an acquired taste.  But we didn't have the right to hold them as prisoners."

 

"What other option was available?" Teal'c dug a fork into a plateful of scrambled eggs.  "With a people so decidedly patronizing and disdainful as were the Tollan, we could not have trusted them to integrate amicably into your Earth society."

 

"True."  Daniel mulled while he chewed his bite of banana. "But when it comes right down to it, what's more important?  Our own inferiority complexes, or our belief in human rights?"

 

"What in the name of all that's holy are you talking about, Daniel?"

 

"Judgments."  Dr. Jackson paused with the banana halfway to his mouth, then used it to point at his teammate.  "We made all kinds of judgments about them based on their culture, held them against their will, tried to force them to give us information. It wasn't the right thing to do."

 

"Based on their culture?" The coffee cup hovered near the Colonel's mouth, seemingly forgotten.  "A culture based on being as insulting as possible to the people who saved their sorry asses? Sounds like a veritable Utopia."

 

"That's not what I meant."

 

Dark liquid sloshed a little over the edge of the cup as Jack used it to gesture at his teammate.  "That's what they meant, though."

 

Daniel's expression grew earnest. "I've been thinking about this a lot, Jack, and I've come to the conclusion that we simply didn't understand them.  And we took umbrage - making rash judgments based on our own feelings of inadequacy - where they were merely demonstrating caution as befit their culture and experiences."

 

"We were merely demonstrating caution too, weren't we?"  He crooked a single index finger in the semblance of a quotation mark. 

 

Daniel swallowed, then nodded - a hinky little move that didn't show agreement as much as acknowledge a point. "But we were the ones in a position of familiarity." 

 

"Not with them, we weren't. We didn't know anything about them. It behooved us to proceed with caution. As we did.  And I'm not going to apologize for it."

 

"Why do you automatically assume that everyone is an enemy?"

 

Jack paused, his brown eyes making a stern assessment of his friend.  After a while, he blew out the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. "Because doing otherwise makes us vulnerable."

 

"But we're the good guys, Jack." Daniel held out a hand, palm upward. "We're the ones who are out there learning about all this stuff.  Why is it that we're the ones who seem to be plagued with the need to venture out loaded to the teeth with bullets instead of open hearts and minds?"

 

"Oh, well. Open hearts and minds." The Colonel slammed the cup down on the table, throwing his hands wide, as if in surrender. "If you put it that way."

 

"Geez.  Jack."

 

"Let's just go through the 'Gate every day with bucketfuls of daisies, dancing around Maypoles and singing Kum-ba-ya whenever the urge hits us.  That's going to make Earth safe from the Goa'uld, isn't it?  We'll make them like us.  Hell - we'll make them adore us - and then they won't want to use us as hosts anymore."

 

"Jack, don't be an ass." Daniel tossed the banana peel down on his tray.  "We need to stop making these snap assessments about people and simply accept them for who they are. It's not our place to make them fit into our ideas of what acceptable behavior is."

 

Jack's snort was noisily derisive. "Don't kid yourself, Daniel. It's a necessary self-preservation technique. We judge people every day. We have to watch how people act around us and then make quick assessments about their character. If we feel inferior, don't we usually put up some sort of guard to keep people from having an upper hand with us? It's basic psychology - that whole fight or flight thing."

 

"Fight or flight." Daniel narrowed his eyes as he stared at a point just over Jack's right shoulder. "I'm thinking we are resorting too often to the 'fight' portion of that cliche lately."

 

"So you've mentioned."

 

Scowling, Daniel looked at Jack. "When?"

 

O'Neill sighed.  "Pretty much as soon as we got back from our visit with the Nox."

 

"The Nox were right.  About everything. We immediately assumed that they were helpless based only on our initial perception of them.  We should have listened to them, and maybe we could have learned something."

 

"Or maybe they could have tried to see things from our point of view."  Jack hitched an eyebrow upward.  "But nobody ever seems to think about that."

 

"Still.  No matter how much the Tollan may have grated on our nerves, we couldn't have handed them over to Maybourne and maintained any semblance of integrity."  Daniel motioned at Jack with his half-eaten fruit.  "I know that this is a military-run operation, but I'd like to believe that it's just not who we are as people - as a team."

 

"It's who I am to maintain caution until people with whom I am interacting have proven themselves friendly."

 

"Friendly."

 

"Yes, friendly."  Jack's eyes widened.  "Adjective.  'Showing kindly interest and goodwill.  Not hostile.'  Friendly."

 

"And how are we supposed to do that when we treat all of the indigenous species we encounter as immediate threats?"

 

"I am in agreement with Colonel O'Neill, Daniel Jackson."  Teal'c took a break from his meal to fix his dark gaze on the younger man. "What would happen if we were to encounter an evil force and we have purposefully made ourselves non-threatening?  Would that not lead to our demise?  And would that not render us incapable of locating and rescuing Sha’re and Skaara?"

 

Daniel faltered, but mustered himself. "The Tollans might have shared their knowledge with us if we hadn't attempted to keep them as captives."

 

"That is doubtful, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c reached for the salt that sat in the middle of the table.  "I do not believe that the Tollan would have allowed us any access to their technology or knowledge.  They did not consider this planet or its inhabitants worthy of such attentions."

 

"Maybe if we'd - "

 

The Jaffa didn't pause as he salted, merely tilted his chin meaningfully before pronouncing, "They were a singularly arrogant race."

 

"We should have tried harder." Glaring at the table through his glasses, Daniel's frown deepened. "We should have done whatever we could to make them understand us as people - not just as military operatives. They might have trusted us."

 

The Colonel inhaled deeply through clenched teeth, glaring down at the bagel that sat, untouched, on his plate. He nudged it with his finger, but that didn't help make it any more appetizing. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his legs out under the table and crossed his arms over his chest. "You think whatever you want, Daniel. I'll just maintain my previous opinion that the guy was a dick."

 

Dr. Jackson's eyebrows flew high, his lips pressing tightly together.  With a somewhat pointed sigh, he reached for his coffee cup.  "Well, you might not want to say that around Sam. She certainly didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with them."

 

"What?"

 

"She seemed rather taken with the Tollan."

 

"The Tollan as a people or one of the individuals?"  This from Teal'c, from around a mouthful of oatmeal.

 

"I think she was attracted to the race for their science."  Daniel shook the sugar packets he'd grabbed from the little plastic holder in the center of the table.  "But I think she was kind of into a specific one in particular."

 

"What are you talking about?" The question was growled rather than asked.

 

"Well," Daniel took a moment to dump the sugar into his coffee before answering. "I didn't include this in the official report because - well - I mostly didn't want to get her into trouble. But when I went into her lab to finish up a few things, I walked in on - shall we say - a moment between the two of them."

 

"What - between Carter and Hammock?"

 

"Omack.  But, no - the other guy.  The young one."

 

“Hakeem?”

 

“Nareem.”

 

Jack’s frown deepened. “Are you sure? Because I could have sworn –“

 

"I am certain that they shared many moments of conversation while the Tollan were housed within the SGC." Teal'c broke a slice of bacon in half and raised the pieces to his lips.  "She and the Tollan known as Nareem spent much time together."

 

"No."  Daniel grinned.  "I'm talking about a 'moment'."  He used his fingers as quotation marks.

 

"Daniel."  O'Neill sat upright, leaning forward and resting both forearms on the table top.  "What the hell are you saying?"

 

"Just that she and Nareem got pretty chummy. I walked in on them - you know - kissing."

 

Jack couldn't have responded to that if he'd wanted to.  His mouth had gone suddenly dry, his throat felt as if it had suddenly closed up. And he wouldn't even have had a suitable response - only questions. Questions he shouldn't have to be asking. Questions he was stupid enough to have made necessary. How had he let this - whatever it was - get this far? How the hell had it happened so damned fast? It had been stupid - insanely stupid to let his guard down so far, so quickly.  He'd worked with women in the military before, he'd erected barriers before.  But this. . .

 

This defied past experiences. This wasn't merely appreciating a good-looking female.  This was deeper.  A fascination that was quickly becoming a need. And with that need – well, damn.

 

His hands slid off the table to rest in tightly-fisted coils on his lap, and O'Neill felt himself staring at the cold, stale bagel as if it held the secrets to the Universe. 

 

Trust Teal'c to blithely carry on the conversation. "Would Captain Carter truly face disciplinary action for engaging in physical intimacy with this Tollan man?"

 

Daniel swallowed the coffee he'd just sipped. "I don't really know. I don't think that there are any specific regulations against it.  It just kind of surprised me.  She doesn't seem to be the type to fool around - especially on base.  But there they were.  Smooching. They stopped as soon as I said something, but still. It was a little awkward."

 

"Was this intimacy perhaps coerced?" Teal'c lifted his glass of milk. "It may be that this Tollan man forced himself on her."

 

"No."  Daniel had turned his attention to the apple on his tray, trying to peel the little sticker off.  "No, she was definitely into it."

 

"Then I am sorry that the man known as 'Nareem' did not choose to remain on Earth and take asylum with your people." He set the glass down on his tray with a dull 'clink'. "Perhaps he and Captain Carter could have found a measure of happiness in each others' company."

 

"Happiness?"  Jack stood abruptly, his chair skittering out from under him to slam into the table behind him.  Grabbing the napkin that lay, unused, on his tray, he swiped at his mouth, then wadded up the flimsy paper and chucked it onto the still untouched bagel. "How could she possibly be happy with a mealy-mouthed, condescending, smug, sparkly jumpsuit-wearing, arrogant blow-hard?"

 

"She seemed to really like him. And really, he wasn't half-bad. He was definitely was the nicest of the lot." Looking up at his friend, Daniel frowned. "What's your problem, Jack?"

 

"Nicest - Daniel, seriously? That's like saying that the Bubonic is the ‘nicest of the plagues’." O'Neill rolled his eyes towards the ceiling before dropping a scowl at his companions.  "The idiot even took her cat. Who does that?"

 

He could feel Teal'c and Daniel staring at him, knew that they were wondering whether or not he'd gone completely nutso. He wondered it himself, a little. Worried that this job, this life he was leading, was taking what little of his sanity that was left and throwing it out into the universe, never to be heard from again. And he hated it. Hated this feeling. Hated the job, for the first time in ages.  Hated - other things.

 

Jack O'Neill was completely accustomed to feeling like a lost cause.  A few years back, he'd stepped through the 'Gate for the first time for exactly that reason - he'd figured that he'd hit the sludge underneath the crap that was under the silt beneath rock bottom.  After wallowing in that blackness for a while, missing Charlie so much that he couldn't feel anything anymore and bathing himself in the blame that came with his failed marriage, he'd figured he'd have to die for things to start looking up. So he'd drummed himself up a nuke and headed through a wormhole. 

 

And now, he knew what was out there. What they faced. He fully expected to die every time they 'Gated out - had no delusions whatsoever that they'd be victorious in their endeavors.  He'd been okay with that - accepted it without pause.  Known that his team wanted to live more than he did, and accepted that, too. So he had continued fighting - more than a year ago on Abydos, and now, everywhere else, only because he hadn't wanted to disappoint them.  At least that's how it had been.

 

But now. 

 




 

Things had changed.  Because for the first time in a long time, he could see something beyond the next mission.  Beyond the shimmering blue event horizon. Beyond the multitudinous skies of alien worlds. There was a future for him. One in which his greatest accomplishment might not be dying for purpose - it might be that he'd found one for which to live. 

 

And that realization seemed more petrifying than death.  Because dying with honor meant that the job was done, while living with purpose, forging a life of meaning, forced a person to decide on a direction, and in some cases, to choose someone with whom to make the journey. He couldn't quite put words to any of it, only knew that it terrified him as much as sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

 

Hazarding a glance at his teammates, he pressed his lips together and drew some semblance of control about himself. "But I'll leave it at my previous conclusion."

 

Daniel peered up at him from over the tops of his glasses' frames, his eyes wide, innocent, and unblinking - not unlike those of a newly-hatched owl.  "What was that, Jack?"

 

"What was what, Daniel?" From out of nowhere, she appeared, holding only a cup of coffee.  Cheerful, fresh-faced, Carter smiled at her team, making her way out of habit to the place she had come to claim as her own - across from Daniel, and next to the Colonel.  Setting her cup down on the table, she flashed a grin at O'Neill.  "What'd I miss?"

 

O'Neill shoved his hands into the pockets of his BDU trousers. He wouldn't - couldn't - look at her, choosing instead to make a second, and then a third, perusal of the cold, unappetizing bagel beneath the dirty napkin on his tray. His gaze flickered at her coffee cup, steaming in front of her, the creamer making cloudy swirls on top. There was lipstick on the rim, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see her full lower lip, and the color glistening there - glossy, pink, when she normally wore nothing at all.

 

Not that he'd ever paid attention.

 

Aw, hell. 

 

Heat surged through his body, and he took a few steps backwards.  "Nothing, Carter. Nothing. You didn't miss a damned thing."

 

And even to him, his footsteps sounded as if he were running away, rather than going anywhere at all.

 

\-------OOOOOOO-------

 

He had half an hour to kill before the morning briefing.  Aimless, restless, he ended up on the elevator, off it again, up and down a few flights of stairs, and then meandered around the complex. He hadn't realized where he was going until he was there.

 

Her lab was dark.  Not surprising, since she was presumably still upstairs in the Mess with Daniel and Teal'c - most likely talking about how their leader had lost his ever-loving mind.  Shaking that thought away, Jack stepped across the threshold into the room. It felt like her - a perfect mixture of neat orderliness and the distracted messiness that happened when she was in the 'zone'.  And she'd definitely been in that zone, lately, trying to winkle information out of the few items that the Tollans had left behind while simultaneously collating information from the last probe they'd sent through the 'Gate.

 

Sighing, Jack shoved his hands more deeply into his pockets.  He knew he didn't belong there, knew that he was crossing a line that she'd never truly drawn. Technically, he had full access to her workspace, simply because he was her superior officer. She had no reasonable expectation of privacy on base, and she'd never had any problem with him entering her work area, that he knew.  Of course, he'd never asked to come in, either.  He'd just - come in.

 

But without her there, the space felt odd. Empty, somehow. Cold.  And altogether too quiet, with only the constant whirring of mechanical fans breaking the silence.  Taking a few steps further into the lab,  Jack stopped near the work table, passing a glance over the few items left on it. She'd tidied before leaving the night before, putting her tools and implements away.  Only a couple of random things remained on it; a large metal T-square, a pair of mechanical pencils, and a small metal case.

 

He pushed at the T-square with his forefinger, and then touched one of the pencils.  He passed a look over his shoulder towards the door before reaching for the case, flicking the latch open with his thumb before drawing back the lid to look inside.

 

It was a single object, resting on a nest of styrofoam pellets.  Alien, obviously, from the markings on the top of it.  Most likely one of the Tollan artifacts that Carter was in charge of identifying and studying.   Jack lifted the object out, placing the case with a dull 'clink' on the table with his other hand. It was light - much lighter than he'd imagined it would be - hardly heavy enough to even register as technology.

 

But then, what would someone as primitive as Jack know about Tollan technology?

 

He gripped it more tightly than he'd intended, and the damn thing blinked to life.  Primary colors and triangles - if he didn't know better, he'd have thought it to be a toddler's toy. Inside the triangles were markings of some sort. Tollan writing. Or at least, he assumed it to be Tollan writing.  He'd never seen this device before, and he certainly didn't remember it from yesterday's briefing, where Carter and the other tech geeks had presented their findings.

 

Running his thumb over the lighted surface didn't make the device do anything different, and neither did shaking it. It didn't appear to be a weapon of any sort, nor did the lighted symbols seem to have any kind of purpose. But, just for kicks, he pressed the pad of his thumb over the symbol in the middle, anyway.

 

He'd half expected the thing to explode, or play music, or beep, or something.  Hell - he'd thought it would do anything other than pass a wave of feeling over him. Sickening, nauseating emotion - as if he'd been transported back to the eighth grade and he'd just woken up to the prospect of girls and all their possibilities.  Only, this obsession assailing him only had to do with one girl, and underneath that was another line of awareness that made Jack swallow back a bit of bile.

 

For the barest moment, panic flared through his core - the feelings were clear, and weirdly strong, but still distant - as if they were passing through a filter. Concentrating, O'Neill closed his eyes, his thumbs coming to a firm rest on the center symbol.  Adoration.  Love. Physical desire. Attraction - and yet so very much more assailed his psyche. With absolute certainty, Jack knew that Nareem had been sincere in his affection for Carter. 

 

But hey - the guy was still Tollan. The other feelings that had assaulted the Colonel proved he'd been right in his primary assessment. The Tollan man's affection for Sam seethed on top of a surface of underlying condescension like foam on top of an ocean of filth.  There were undertones of other, less kind feelings, as well.  A hint of kindly amusement at her education and knowledge. Appreciation for Carter's physical attributes  - not just her obvious beauty, but also a fascination with the size and breadth of her hips and breasts, her physical fitness, and a question as to the purity of her DNA - as if she were a possible brood mare.  Like she was being viewed as a prospective incubator for the vastly superior Tollan progeny.

 

How Jack knew that, he couldn't tell. He felt it throughout his body, though, as the device pulsed vaguely in his palm.  Whatever the technology was meant to do, it had also allowed the Colonel the proverbial full-Monty.  He'd seen Nareem's feelings, his desires, and his intentions. The only thing Jack could feel with complete autonomy was vindication. Whatever nice things that Nareem had felt for Sam, underneath it all, the Tollan guy was, indeed, a dick.

 

It took effort to remove his digits from the symbol, but he did, then pried his eyes open to stare down at the little device. His stomach lurched, his palms grew clammy as he processed what had just happened.  It had been as if three people inhabited him.  As if the Tollan man had crawled into Jack's being and bored straight through all the carefully constructed barriers he'd been cementing there. As if she were there, too - watching as the two men bashed each others' heads against those walls while simultaneously attempting to climb over them in a desperate effort to reach her before the other man could get to her.

 

With a muffled grunt, O'Neill pressed the red triangle again - this time with both thumbs, then chucked the device back onto the table, where it skidded across the metal surface before coming to a stop in the crook of the T-square.  It took effort for Jack to regain control of his breathing, of his heartbeat. When he chanced a look at his hands, they were shaking.

 

"There you are."

 

Jack jumped, whirling around. His hip bumped against the corner of the work table, and he stifled a groan as pain shot through his side. "Damn it, Daniel."

 

The younger man's glasses flashed in the ambient light of the lab equipment, casting his face in an odd rainbow glow. "You okay?"

 

"Damn it.  Yes."  Jack braced his palm at his waist, grimacing slightly.  "No. Damn. Crap. Not really."

 

"What's wrong?"  True concern lit his expression.  If anything else, Daniel was a good man - a decent friend. Sincere to a fault.

 

Jack frowned, turning his chin downward. Hiding?  Sure.  Exactly what he was hiding, he couldn't have been certain.  Even if he'd known, he probably wouldn't have admitted it. "Just a nasty bump. What's up?"

 

Daniel's brow arched the teeniest tidge above the frames of his glasses.  Whether he was expressing compassion or skepticism was a toss-up.  "We, uh, we're all ready. Waiting in the briefing room. Wondering if you were going to join us or not."

 

"Doesn't this base have an intercom system?"

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Intercoms."  Jack lifted his face and glared at his teammate. "You could have just paged me. It wasn't necessary to go on safari."

 

"You're probably right." Daniel shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back slightly on his heels.  "But I came anyway."

 

"Why?"

 

"I have a freakish fetish with climbing stairs and wandering halls in search of recalcitrant colonels?"

 

Jack rapped a knuckle on the edge of the worktable. "Damn it, Daniel.  Just give me an answer."

 

For a long time, Daniel merely stood there, observing his friend through the darkness of the lab.  Tilting his head to one side, he lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. "Dunno.  You seemed kind of worked up earlier."

 

O'Neill didn't have a ready answer for that, so he didn't offer any response at all.

 

But Daniel wasn't deterred.  "I wanted to make sure that your head was in the game before bringing you into the briefing.  If it wasn't, I could make an excuse - you're sick or something - and say you went home."

 

"What does it really matter?"

 

Another half-shrug.  "It doesn't, to me.  It might matter a little to Sam.  You were a little - abrupt back there."

 

"She's used to it."

 

"Which is part of the problem."

 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

 

Behind his glasses, Daniel's eyes narrowed, then widened slightly. "None of this is her fault."

 

Dr. Jackson was right - it wasn't. Sam Carter had no responsibility for any of what Jack was - feeling? - passing through? - doing? - lately. Whatever it was that happened whenever the Captain was around had nothing to do with her at all, but rather with him. They'd made strides towards being something else lately.  Friends, maybe. Something more meaningful than co-workers or teammates.  Something - worthy. Something good.

 

Something more than he should have been wanting.

 

Most of the guys Jack had served with in the past had ended up being buddies, at the very least.  Some had become as close as the brothers his parents had never seen fit to provide for him.  But to equate Ferretti with Carter - well, even the Colonel possessed a decent amount of introspection. Whatever else this was - fascination or awareness or attraction - the fact that it had started lingering under Jack's skin was a problem.   A dangerous one. One that he truly hadn't given credence until he'd held that infernal device in his hands and seen this woman through another man's eyes. Felt her influence, her wonder, her beauty without the uniform acting as a buffer. Jack breathed through that for a few minutes. He could feel Daniel watching him, feel those too-wise eyes considering, and calculating.  Still, he couldn't have come up with a suitable reply even if he'd wanted to. 

 

"Jack."  Daniel's voice insinuated itself into O'Neill's reverie. "Jack. Did you hear what I said?"

 

"I heard you."  O'Neill tossed a sideways look at the other man, more for effect than anything else. 

 

"And?"  Daniel's brows rose along with his questioning tone.

 

"And what?"

 

"Crapnabbit, Jack." Exasperation on top of frustration. "You know what I'm talking about."

 

"No, Daniel."  The Colonel turned his body halfway towards the work table again. He was stalling - a childish tactic, but an effective one.  "I really don't."

 

"All right, then. Let's be honest here."

 

Waiting, O'Neill ran a fingertip along the smooth surface of the table.  "About what?"

 

"About what's happening with you. You're taking this whole thing with the Tollan like it's personal."

 

"Isn't it?"  Jack looked down at his own hand.  Strong, capable, rough.  He always had a callous or a hangnail somewhere.  They were nothing like the smooth hands he'd noticed on the Tollans. He wasn't sure if that was to his benefit or detriment.

 

"Not really."  Daniel's tone held a shrug.  "You and I are both passionate about our work, and our points of view.  We've butted heads on more than one occasion.  But this time - it feels different."

 

Because it was different.  But the Colonel couldn't admit to that.  His eyes betrayed him and headed back towards the device lying inert on the opposite side of the table.  "Maybe I'm just tired."

 

Unconvinced, but too nice to say anything about it, Daniel nodded.  "Okay."

 

"Maybe they just pissed me off."

 

"I think that goes without saying."

 

"We aren't primitive."

 

"No, we aren't."

 

"And it's like she just bought into their wonderfulness - like Carter actually liked them."

 

Daniel's answer was too long in coming. "I think she did. She was also fascinated by their science and knowledge. But it had to have been flattering for her to be the object of Nareem's affection, too, don't you think? I mean, he's an attractive, intelligent man, and she's a beautiful, smart woman. She doesn't meet that many guys around here who are her equal, does she?"

 

"No."  His breath felt heavy in his chest.  Constricted.  Hot. His lips pressed tightly together as he considered that.  "She doesn't."

 

Because he certainly wasn't. His haggard experience wasn't exactly the kind of thing that girls dreamed of bragging about to their girlfriends. His past held nothing for a woman of her caliber, of her accomplished resume. He had education, but his Master's degree, earned in and around only semi-approved missions into enemy territories that were not readily recognized on maps didn't hold a candle to her pristine, shiny Doctorate. Suddenly, those thieved little moments, the tiny intimacies they'd been sharing recently turned into something unworthy.

 

More so, perhaps, than the feelings he'd been assailed with by the device.

 

She deserved more than what was being offered by the Tollan.  A damn sight more than Jack himself could give.  She deserved to find someone who truly appreciated all of her, and could offer her something more than desire, or condescension, or fun. And if he were standing in the way of her finding something wonderful, then he needed to fix that.

 

Because in the end, they were still on the same team. In the same command. Therefore, she was off-limits - even if he'd never intended for anything untoward to happen between them. The fact that he was finding himself seeking her company, her attention, her opinion, her approbation, told him that he'd already allowed things to go too far.  But then, he already knew that.  Jack just hadn't been overly-willing to fess up to that fact.

 

In the past few months he'd felt more alive than he had since long before Charlie had died.  Giving that up - shutting that door - well, when his eyes closed on that thought, he could have sworn that he was looking back down into the pit from which he'd so recently emerged.

 

"Jack?" 

 

Daniel's voice sounded as if it were echoing through the twists and turns of a distant cavern.  He needed to answer - to say something - but with the tightness gripping his chest, he could barely pull in a breath.  Finally through sheer force of will, he looked up at the archaeologist.  "Briefing room?"

 

Jackson's expression reflected a restrained sort of morbid curiosity.  After a moment, he nodded.  "Yes. The rest of the team and Hammond are already there."

 

Jack pushed himself away from the worktable and strode purposefully towards the door.  "Then let's go."

 

Daniel made his way through the door and into the corridor beyond.  "So, what was that thing on Sam's desk?  Was it one of the Tollan things she's been studying?"

 

Jack lifted a shoulder, falling into step beside the other man.  "Um - yeah. I think so."

 

"Well, she'll have it all figured out in no time."

 

Of that, O'Neill had no doubt. If there was anyone who could sort this kind of thing out, it'd be Sam Carter.  He just had to step aside and let her get to it.  Leave her alone to work things out.  Get the hell out of her way. 

 

They'd reached the lift.  Jack pushed the button, stepping backwards to wait. After a few seconds, the elevator doors stuttered open, and Jack stepped across the threshold and into the tiny compartment.  Daniel moved in beside him, pivoting in the close quarters, his shoulder bumping Jack's.

 

"That's the one thing I miss about Abydos." The younger man looked up towards where the floor numbers blinked on the screen.  "The space.  We live underground here. The halls and offices down here are all like rabbit warrens.  Usually, we're kind of on top of each other.  On Abydos, at least there was a little more space to move around.  Some privacy, you know? I mean, sure.  We all have labs, and quarters in some cases, but in general, we're kind of in each others' pockets all the time.  It's like we always have to put up fake barriers to feel autonomous in any way, because we certainly don't have any personal space. I'm actually shocked that we don't have more hanky panky going on amongst the personnel."

 

The car came to a jerky halt, and the door opened again. 

 

As they disembarked, Daniel leaned close, his voice carrying a tone of hushed humor.  "I mean, Sam oughta be able to kiss random aliens without people walking in on her, right?"  His elbow jabbed good-naturedly into Jack's side.  "Right?"

 

The briefing room was bright. The polar opposite of Sam's lab below. She stood near the head of the table, an array of charts and diagrams layed out on the table before her. She was leaning over, speaking animatedly with the General, her elegant hands indicating important bits of whatever she was saying.  As Daniel, and then Jack, entered, she glanced up, then straightened, capturing O'Neill's gaze.

 

She was beautiful.  Purely so.  Whatever she'd been talking about had manifested itself in a blazing excitement that made her eyes glisten, and to have that intense joy focused on him hurt him to the core. Because it shouldn't make him so happy to see her enjoyment.  It shouldn't heal him so much to merely be in her presence.  Like he'd decided before, he'd taken this too far.  The fall from this altitude would be painful enough - to let this go any further would be suicide. 

 

He thought of Daniel's analogy - of erecting barriers when they were forced to live in each others' pockets. Of building walls. Rooms.  Places where emotions couldn't be roused enough to create greater problems.  She was worth that. Her happiness would be reward for what he would be losing.

 

So that's exactly what he'd do. She was a remarkable woman and a kick-ass officer.  She deserved nothing less than the opportunity to be happy.

 

He looked away from her, crossing to the opposite end of the table from where she stood, hunching down in a chair and extending his legs out in front of him.  He crossed his arms across his chest, trying to keep the pain at bay.

 

Placing a brick.  Then another.  And another.

 

Ignoring her when she tossed a curious, confused look at him.  Pretending he didn’t notice her tiny frown.

 

Erecting the barrier.

 

Building the wall.

 

Because he owed her at least that much.

 

 

 


End file.
